


Run to Me

by Cordelia69



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 12:52:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3851647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia69/pseuds/Cordelia69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Rochefort's reign of terror against the Musketeers and the Queen comes to an end, the four brothers-in-arms are forced to confront an uncertain future as they explore feelings for the women they love, and the brothers they would die for. Athos and Aramis have always been close but whether their relationship can survive these new changes and distances is the unanswered question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Why is Athos always concerned about Aramis?

Athos cares about Aramis even when he does something stupid... like sleeping with the Queen.

Why does he care? Aramis is reckless, stubborn, and impetuous. And stupid. He doesn't care if he sleeps with a whore, a Comtesse, the Cardinal's mistress, or the Queen herself. He doesn't even care about the consequences. Athos warned him about them.

So why now that everyone, including Rochefort and the King, knows what Aramis did does Athos feel like he can't breathe? He knew where all of this would lead and he couldn't convince Aramis to stop it before something bad happened and now, with a bunch of Red Guards between them, all he can think is that he cares what happens to Aramis.

"Arrest the musketeer Aramis on a charge of high treason," Rochefort orders.

"What?" Aramis shouts.

_What?_ Athos thinks. _No. No. No._ He wants to scream.

Rochefort continues with the accusations but all Athos can think of is Aramis. One when a Red Guard touches him does he pull himself together. He sees other guards escort Aramis out of the room, and he knows there isn't anything he can do right now. They need a plan to rescue Aramis and Constance and they need to go back to the garrison. He sends D'Artagnan to Constance before riding back.

He dismounts and goes to his quarters, next to Aramis', without saying anything to anyone. Thinking about Aramis is like being caught in a cold rain shower. Athos doesn't remember going to his room, even as he stands without seeing his surroundings.

_Aramis... Aramis... Aramis..._

The previous sensation is now stronger. He feels sweat run down his back, his breath comes in short gasps, and he feels dizzy. Only one other time in his life has he felt like this - when Thomas died. He tries to breathe but only strangled sounds come from him. His hands are trembling and his heart is pounding in his chest.

Then someone touches him, calling his name. "Athos? Athos? Are you with me?"

_D'Artagnan._ He focuses on the man in front of him, trying to slow his breath and his pounding heart.

"Breathe, Athos. Breathe. It's alright. I'm here with you. Breathe for me, please." The boy is concerned but he can't do as he's asking. Porthos is on a suicidal mission, Aramis is in prison, and he can't go on like this. Everything is crumbling around him and it's all his fault.

"Athos, look at me. Nothing is your fault. Porthos knows what he's doing and Aramis... Aramis shouldn't have slept with the Queen, first of all. He knew what the consequences would be and he did it anyway. Now, please, breathe for me," D'Artagnan says, looking Athos in the eyes.

He stares back, following D'Artagnan's order for what seems like hours and then he closes his eyes. He buries his face in D'Artagnan's chest, eyes closed and finally breathes normally as he drifts off, leaving everything outside his room.

When he wakes up, he's in his bed. Alone. His head is throbbing but it's nothing he can't manage. He sits until the world is still. Then he stands goes directly to Treville's office.

"You're awake," Treville welcomes him.

"What happened?" he asks.

"If you don't know yourself, neither do I," D'Artagnan says.

Then it hits him. The boy is covered in bruises. A lot of bruises. His headache forgotten, he focuses on D'Artagnan.

"What happened to you?" he growls.

"Red Guards, outside Constance's cell," he says, without looking at him.

" _Merde_! We don't have much time!" he growls. They need a plan and they need it now.

\-------------

_Meet me at the tavern near the Louvre._

_O._

His hands won't stop shaking, his heart is ringing in his chest, and he tries to steady his breathing. When she arrives, a single thought crosses his mind. _What if she doesn't accept?_

"Athos," she greets him.

Not sure about his voice, he motions to a table in a dark corner.

"I don't think it's safe here," she starts, once seated with a glass of wine in front of her.

He drinks his wine in one swallow, and then he answers. "No, but I need your help."

She lifts a perfect brow, looking directly at him and waiting.

"It's Aramis," he states after he finishes a second glass. "I know I can't ask anything of you, but I can't stand another dead brother." _Especially this one_ , he thinks. "It's the last thing I'll ask you to do. If you help me rescue him, I won't think anything more of you. I will leave you alone." He holds his breath when he finishes.

"Where can I find him?" She smiles when he gives her a bewildered look. "I'm already in this mess. I don't think it will get worse with a rescue. And I like his pretty face. I don't want it wasted." She pours more wine into her glass.

He watches her carefully and then he gives her all the details. "We'll be waiting for you at Bonacieux's."

He grasps her hand, trying to pass on all his feelings to her. After a moment, she slips her hand away and standing, she turns around without a second glance.

He sighs, running a hand over his face. He finishes the wine in one gulp and then he stands. He puts his hat on and goes back to the garrison.

\-------------

Rescuing Constance and helping Porthos find Vargas is simple. The hardest part is waiting for Anne. He tries to hide his discomfort from Porthos but it's hopeless.

"Don't you dare! It's not your fault!" Porthos hisses, without looking up from the pistol he's loading.

"I can't help it, Porthos..." he chokes.

The other musketeer, with all his calmness, puts down his pistol, reaches for Athos, and leads him out of the dining room. "Spit it out," he starts, once they're away from prying ears.

"What?" Athos isn't sure of what he's supposed to say.

"You and 'Mis," Porthos continues.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says without meeting Porthos' eyes.

"Athos, please. I didn't see all the clues about Aramis and the Queen, but I'm not so blind. I know there's something about you two. Now that I think about it, you two acted strangely after the attempt on the Queen's life. And not because this chaos started in that moment. It's like that episode clicked something in you and Aramis." Porthos is like a dog with a bone - once he has something between his teeth, he can't let it go.

"I don't know. It's like everything revolves around him. I tried to hold it at bay, but now he's in The Chatelet on a charge of treason with the hangman waiting with the rope... I don't know what to do. It's like drowning, Porthos. I've never felt like this in all my life. Even with Anne. If he dies..." He can't go on. His breath catches in his throat. His eyes water. He can't think about losing Aramis, not like this. Not without knowing why he feels these things.

A hand on his shoulder is all that keeps him from shattering.

"Everything will be alright, I promise you. That man cheated Death many times. This is not his last time," Porthos says, gripping Athos' shoulder.

He closes his eyes, regaining his composure. "You're right. But if something happens to him..." He opens his eyes and looks at Porthos.

"Nothing will happen. Not this time, not ever." He smiles and turns to go back to loading pistols. "But I think you two need to speak once it is over." He smiles again and leaves Athos alone.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with the second chapter! 
> 
> I need to thanks my amazing beta Nicole who bears me and my nonsense.

**Chapter 2**

 

The pain is agonizing. Aramis tries to work loose the chain, but every time he pulls the handcuffs dig deeper into his wrists. Everything, from the moment Rochefort arrested him, seems like a nightmare. This hole of a cell is cold and wet in the night and a furnace in the daylight. He doesn't mind the hot and the dust, but the cold is excruciating. His clothes don't do much against the cold and when it overtakes him he can't stop shivering.

His body shakes with violent shivers. This time it's not because of the cold. He's angry and tired. And these damned handcuffs dig into his wrists.

He pulls again and again, until he slides on the hard ground.

"God, if you spare her and by some miracle I'm allowed to live, I vow to devote all my remaining days to your grace. I will renounce all worldly temptations, I will. Even my duty."  _Even Athos_ , he implores silently.

The sound of a lock opening echoes in the cell.

"I'm not worthy of your mercy." He stands up, trying to regain all of his strength and his dignity.

"My soul is prepared," he breathes.

A small cry comes from behind him. He turns and when he sees who is standing in front of the bars in his cell he can't help but wonder if he's already dead and in Hell.

"God works in mysterious ways, does he not?" Milady says, turning the key in the door's lock.

He watches her carefully as she enters the cell. When she tries to undo the handcuffs, he pulls back.

"Everything is alright. I'll be very careful," she says in a softer voice.

He takes a deep breath and then he lets her unfasten him from the bonds.

"Why are you here?" he asks once the handcuffs hit the ground.

"Athos sent me," she says simply. "Have you other things to collect?" she asks, looking at him curiously.

"No, they took everything from me." He shrugs his shoulders.

"So we can go?" Milady turns and strides outside the cell without looking to see if Aramis is behind her.

He follows her in silence. After a few minutes, he can't stop himself. He needs to know.

"The Queen?"

"Alive. No thanks to you," she replies, turning to watch him.

"And the others?"  _Athos?_ he asks silently again.

"Gone to help Porthos." This time she doesn't look at him.

He puts a hand on her shoulder. He needs to stop and take a breath. "It won't be long before they discover my escape..."

"It was not an escape. It was a rescue... for which you are very welcome." She smiles and starts walking again.

They find the horses near the entrance and, with them, a Red Guard. Aramis takes care of him in no time and then they approach the beasts.

Aramis already has a foot on the stirrup when he sees that Milady is uncomfortable beside him and the horse. "What?" he asks.

"Ehm... you need to help me up," she whispers.

"Are you serious?" He can't believe it.

"Yes, I am," she whispers again.

Aramis smiles, for the first time in days, when he helps her mount. He continues smiling until he's in his saddle. "Let's get out of here," he says, turning his horse to the exit. He needs to go to his friends as quickly as possible.

\-------------

The ride from the Chatelet is brief. They have to be fast and sneaky. Aramis watches Milady carefully. She seems more at ease than him, who feels tension in every fiber of his body. Until he arrives beside his brothers, he won't feel safe.

When they pass in front of the garrison without stopping, Aramis shivers. Not going inside must mean something happened to his brothers.

"Why don't we stop?" he asks.

"Because it isn't safe here anymore," she says shortly.

When she wants to be, she's quieter than Athos. As the ride goes on, he doesn't look back. Anyway, he made a promise to God and the garrison is not his home anymore.

He follows Milday through the streets until he knows where they are headed.

They dismount before entering the court, leading the horses to a post outside Bonacieux's house. They tie the beasts there and then she gets close to the door, knocking loudly.

Milady steps aside when she hears someone approaching the door and Aramis takes her place.

He never thought he'd be so relieved and happy to see Athos. He strides inside, hugging his brother with one arm and resting the other hand above Athos' heart.

He never expected the other man's reaction. Athos leans against him, the hand not holding the pistol cupping the nape of his neck, squeezing him. He kisses him as though Aramis meant the world to him.

Aramis knows that he can't stay like this forever and he pats him on the shoulder, separating himself from Athos.

He goes directly to Porthos who is waiting for him with open arms. They hug tightly and then he turns to D'Artagnan. "You just won't die, will you?" he grins, hugging him too and then Constance. When he looks up from her, Athos is nowhere to be seen.

\-------------

"Thank you for saving his life," Athos says once they are alone. He pours some wine into a glass and passes it to Anne. She stares out the window.

"What will you do now?" he asks once he's sure she won't turn back.

"Star a new life in England, perhaps."

_ England?  _ He can't picture Anne there. She loves spring with its sweet weather and flowers, and the birds singing, and the sun... He hadn't though she would take his advice so seriously. He's not ready to let her go. "It rains a great deal in England. And the food is..." he tries to sound as if he doesn't care.

"Would it matter to you if I went?" she retorts.

"You're free to do as you please."  _ But, please, don't leave me again _ , he finishes in his head.

"I'm not free. I'm bound to you, as you are to me." This time she turns, looking directly at him with pleading eyes.

\-------------

Aramis looks out the window distractedly, rubbing his left hand on his other wrist and trying to soothe the pain, his pistol forgotten at his side. He can't get rid of the cold and the fear he felt in the Chatelet. All of that is bringing up memories he doesn't want to remember right now.

"We're ready!" Treville states.

He jerks from the window, leaving his thoughts behind. "I'll call Athos," he says before someone else steps in.

He searches the rooms until he hears something coming from the kitchen. He approaches the door and before he can knock, he hears Milady's voice. "The day after tomorrow, my carriage will be leaving Paris. I will wait at the crossroads until sundown. If you come, we will go to Le Havre and sail for England together..." He can't listen to it anymore.

Athos is planning to leave for England with Milady. Maybe it's for the best. He will go to a monastery soon and The Inseparables will be no more. Porthos will have D'Artagnan at his side and he knows his brother will forgive him with time. He turns back, striding past D'Artagnan, and goes outside because the air in the house is too much for him.

\-------------

"It's time to take Vargas to the King," D'Artagnan announces without paying attention to Milady.

Athos sighs but doesn't bother answering her. He leaves Anne alone in the kitchen. When he reaches the other side, he finds out that Aramis is not there. "Where is Aramis?" he asks.

"He's outside," Constance tells him.

He nods and goes outside. He finds Aramis sitting on the well, his handkerchief wet on his wrist.

"Let me." He sits beside him and takes the handkerchief, wetting it again and rubbing softly one wrist then the other. "These need a salve," he continues without meeting Aramis' eyes, "and a bandage too." It's strange to be the one who talks a lot. He stays quiet while he cleans the dry blood and dirt from Aramis' wrists.

"You're leaving..." It's a whisper that comes from Aramis.

"What?" he asks, looking at him.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I eavesdropped on your discussion with Milady and I thought... I'm sorry..." he rambles.

Athos looks at him and he doesn't know how to answer. Maybe because he can't see himself away from his brothers. Or maybe because he hasn't though about what Anne said yet. He can't answer right now. They need to save the Queen and stop Rochefort. Then they can talk.

"Let's go inside. We need to put something on these wounds and I have something to show you." He stands up, waiting for Aramis. The musketeer sighs, standing up as well and follows his brother inside.

\-------------

They sit on D'Artagnan's bed next to each other. Athos takes Aramis' hand and exposes his wrist. He puts the balm on the bruising and then he covers it with a clean cloth. Then he does the same on the other wrist. Aramis is quiet, strangely quiet. Athos knows something is wrong with him. When he looks up, he sees Aramis biting his lip, his brown eyes closed and a frown on his face.

"Breathe, Aramis," he orders, putting a hand on his brother's arm.

Aramis exhales loudly, still keeping his eyes shut.

"Everything is alright, open your eyes for me," he pleads.

Aramis is torturing his lips, his eyes still firmly closed.

"Aramis, please." Athos is almost begging. He rubs his hands on Aramis' arms, trying to calm his brother. "You're here. I've got you. Please open your eyes." He is begging now.

Aramis doesn't do as he is asked, instead he puts his head on Athos' shoulder, trying to quiet his whimpers. He thought, once outside the Chatelet, that everything would be fine but now, when the adrenaline has run out, the only thing he feels is fear. He's afraid, for the first time in six years, he's really afraid. Afraid of losing his son, Anna, his brothers, his life.

Athos holds Aramis tight, rubbing his back, whispering, and trying to soothe him. Aramis does nothing at first, grateful for Athos holding him. Then he hugs him, letting Athos calm him.

When the older musketeer feels Aramis relax in his arms, he attempts to watch his face. Aramis' eyes are still closed but his features are relaxed. "'Mis?" he whispers.

"Mmmh?" is his brother's reply.

"Are you alright?" he continues.

"Y...yes," he answers, unsure.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" he asks again, and Aramis' eyes flutter open, glossy but focused on his friend.

"Good. I need to give you something. If you, please, let go of me, I can stand and take that envelope," he says, pointing to the only chair in the room.

Aramis chuckles, lifting himself off Athos. He breathes deeply and watches carefully as his brother grabs the envelope and gives it to him. Aramis opens it, revealing his pauldron and his sash. Athos hands him his sword and his main gauche.

"I thought you might need these," he says, smiling.

Aramis brushes his fingers on the pauldron, feeling the fleur de lis spiking from the leather. He smiles when Athos puts his hand next to his, gripping the pauldron and asking for his permission. Aramis nods and Athos slips it onto his right shoulder.

"I'll be waiting for you outside," Athos says, leaving Aramis the time to prepare.

\----------

They walk away from the Louvre after Rochefort's death. The Queen is safe and all the accusations against Aramis were dropped. Athos hopes his brother doesn't try again and tempt fate with the Queen and the Dauphin. Knowing Aramis, he'll never be free from this - the marks of the trial and the imprisonment are still visible on him. Athos peeks at Aramis and he sees him stop.

"I need to tell you all something." Aramis is standing in the middle of the Tuileries looking as if he has to face the hangman, again. His brothers turn back, waiting for him to speak. "I'm resigning my commission and retiring to a monastery," he continues when he knows he has their complete attention.

"He's going to become a monk," Porthos exclaims, watching Athos for confirmation. The musketeer beside him stands still, all the color draining from him.

"I made a vow to God and I have to honour it. If I had told you sooner, you would have just tried to talk me out of it," Aramis goes on without looking at Athos.

"We're still going to." D'Artagnan, as usual, is trying to change Aramis' mind. Athos is still silent.

"Is this really what you want?" Porthos asks, pained.

"With all my heart."  _ Even if I leave it here, with you. _

Athos seems to snap out of his thoughts. If this is what Aramis wants, who is he to stop him? "Farewell then, old friend." He walks to his brother and hugs him. He wouldn't let go, but he has to.

"We're just gonna let him go?" Porthos asks again.

Athos released Aramis without looking away from him. "No. He's letting us go."  _ He'll be forever with us. _

D'Artagnan throws himself between Aramis' arms, hugging him tightly. Athos envies the boy and how he seems so at ease with showing his emotions. He couldn't do that even if he wanted it. "You'll be missed," the younger musketeer says.

"Take care of Constance," Aramis says, meaning it.

"Of course," D'Artagnan replies, smiling.

Porthos is the last one to hug him. He says nothing, all his feelings reflected in his actions. He embraces Aramis and after seems like hours, he lets him go.

Aramis looks at each one of his brothers and then he puts his hand out. "All for one..."

The others put their hands on Aramis'. "...and one for all."

Athos watches his brother walk away as long as he can.

"Did you speak with him?" Porthos asks him.

"No, I didn't have time," he whispers.

"I hope he'll still be at the Garrison once we're back there," the musketeer says.

Athos nods, not daring to let himself hope that, and starts walking.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Aramis has just finished packing when someone knocks on the door of his lodgings. He needs to leave in five minutes or he'll never arrive on time at the monastery.

"Come in," he says, looking to see if he has left anything behind. He hears the door open and then close behind him, and the person enters silently. He waits for a little bit then he turns, looking directly at Athos.

"What are you doing here?" he asks stiffy. He has already said goodbye to his brothers.

"Before you leave, I need to talk to you." Athos' voice is a whisper.

"About what?" He can't stay here with Athos, alone.

"About this stupid decision of yours." He starts the hardest way.

"It's not a stupid decision, Athos. Not this time," he says, staring at the floor.

"It is. Only you don't know it yet." Why does he have to be Aramis' voice of conscience?

"Athos, I made a vow to God. I have to honour it. I need to honour it," he says again.

"I give you two days and then you'll come back. You're not made for that life. You said it to me once."  _ When all this mess started,  _ he ends mentally.

Aramis looks up as he if he'd said the last part out loud. He knows it too, but he has to do it for his son and the Queen's benefit. For his brothers.

"Athos, please. You know that you'll be better without me. I put all of you in great danger only because I was selfish! I can't harm you all again!" He's shouting now.

"Don't say that. We'll never be better without you. I'll not be better without you. you..." He doesn't finish the sentence. Aramis doesn't let him.

"Why do you care? Tomorrow you'll leave for England with your wife!" he screams. Athos always said that Aramis' bedding choices will lead them both to hang - Aramis for doing it and Athos for letting it happen. He doesn't understand why right now his brother cares about him. He turns and takes the bag with all his belongings heading for the door. "Listen, I have to go. I left something for you on the bed. Can you give the crucifix to the Queen? It's better if she has it. Please, take care of them." He passes Athos without meeting his eyes.

"Wait!" he hisses, catching Aramis' sleeve.

"Athos, please," he whispers.

"I won't go to England with Anne. There is nothing for me on that island. I never thought that I don't care about Anne anymore. I was so occupied with hating her that I didn't see what there was in front of me. I just realized that it's not what I want. I want to stay here, with you. I always that I was mad at you for all that happened with the Queen but I realize I was worried for you. I understood it when I couldn't protect you from Rochefort. Every time you're hurt, heartbroken, or shaken, I'm scared to death for you," he says in a rush.

Aramis now looks at him, eyes wide, mouth open, and the bag forgotten on the floor.

"Please say something," Athos whispers.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say," he replies.

"Say that you won't go," he suggests.

"I can't," he whispers, looking away from him.

"Say at least that you'll come back," he tries.

"That is a promise I can make." Aramis smiles at him. "I'll come back... in time."

Athos smiles too, a sigh of relief escaping from his lips. The hand still on Aramis' sleeve tightens and then he drags Aramis against him.

The pull is so strong that Aramis stumbles over Athos, who steadies him by gripping his other hip. Brown eyes meet green eyes and for the first time in a long time, he's speechless. Athos looks at him with a smirk on his lips. He leans against Aramis, moving his hand from his arm to the nape of his neck, caressing the skin below. He closes the distance and their lips meet.

The kiss is something completely different from what he is used to. Where there should be soft and rosy lips, there are rough and scraped ones. Where there would be soft and tender skin, there is a scratchy beard. Big, rough hands instead of delicate ones. And the scent. Athos smells of wine, leather, and something unmistakably Athos. Not those expensive perfumes his lovers use or Anna's rose scent. He relaxes against him, opening his mouth and letting Athos explore it. Their tongues battle for dominance and in the end Aramis surrenders.

His hands trace Athos' face until they find his hair. He holds them there, running his fingers through it and pulling.

Aramis starts to think he needs air when Athos, as if he is reading his mind, withdraws and looks at him with wide black eyes.

"I'm..." he pants, but Aramis puts his fingers on his mouth. "Don't you dare say you're sorry for what just happened, because I don't believe you." Aramis smiles, panting too.

Athos smiles with Aramis' fingers still on his mouth, then he kisses them. "I'd like to persuade you to stay but I know that if what we've just done doesn't convince you, I don't know what would," he breathes.

"No, you can't, but this can convince me to return quickly," Aramis smiles, moving his fingers and kissing Athos. He pulls away, looking at his brother with tenderness. He collects his bag from where he dropped it and, with a final smile at Athos, he steps out the door.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Athos paces tensely outside the door of the Queen's chambers, waiting to be received. In his hands he holds a package and a letter. He knows what the package contains but not what is written in the letter. He hopes the Queen will destroy it after reading it.

"The Queen will receive you in a minute." Constance appears in front of him and smiles, taking his free hand in hers and trying to calm him. "If you don't relax, I'll need to knock you out. And I'll be ready you've finished with Her Majesty." She squeezes his hand and turns to let him into the room.

Her Majesty is sitting on a chaise lounge chair with her child in her arms, laughing and speaking Spanish to the Dauphin

"Monsieur Athos, what brings you here?" she says, looking up at him.

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry to disturb you but I have a compelling matter to discuss with you," he says. "It is about our mutual friend."

She stands up and hands the baby to one of her ladies-in-waiting. "Leave us," she orders.

"What happened?" she asks once they're alone in the room.

"He left. And he asked me to give these to you." He gives her the package and the letter.

She opens the enveloped, revealing the crucifix.

"Why?" It's the only word that comes from her lips.

"He thought it was better that you have it," he whispers, looking at his boots.

"Did he say where he'd go?" she asks, gripping the crucifix.

"To a monastery, but I know nothing more." Not knowing where he is is worse than anything else.

"I hope he'll find some comfort there. If you'll excuse me, Monsieur, I'd rather be alone now." She stands coldly before him, her eyes like ice, not revealing her emotions.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," he says, bowing and turning to leave her.

\----------

Constance is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, beautiful in her wedding dress. A carriage is in front of them, a servant standing next to the open door. She smiles and takes his hand. "The Queen is very kind. She has arranged this all for me. If I didn't stop her, she'd let us marry the Saint Chapelle and she'd give us a wing of the Palace for our honeymoon," she exclaims happily, climbing into the carriage.

He smiles, sitting beside her.

"Is everything alright?" she asks as they leave.

"Yes. I'm a little bit tired. I feel the effects of the last few days," he answers, settling better onto the cushions and smoothing the sash tie around his hips.

"I didn't know you own one too. I always see Aramis wearing it," she states quietly.

"Actually, it is Aramis'. It's a part of the uniform, as you'll see, and we should wear it only for official occasions but he wears it always," he whispers. The silence stretches for a bit before Athos starts speaking again. "Aramis won't be at the wedding. He left last night. It's why I wear his sash and it's why I came to speak with the Queen."

When he stares out the window, Constance knows that the conversation is over.

\----------

He's supposed to hold Constance's hand and lead her down the aisle, but every step he takes is like a punch. He doesn't know if it's because he doesn't think he's suitable for the task or if it's because it's only him and Porthos there, or because of Anne. He squeezes her hand a lot during the few steps and she squeezes his in return. Once he gives her to D'Artagnan, he stands beside Porthos, following the ceremony until a thought crosses his mind. He needs to reach Anne before she's gone forever. He leaves Porthos' side, making his way for the doors when he's stopped by Treville.

"War has been declared on Spain. All leave has been cancelled," he states.

"I'll report to the garrison later." He can't lose time now.

"You'll report there now. See to your men," Treville orders him.

"My men?" he asks, shocked.

"As Minister for War, I'm making you Captain of the Musketeers." Treville says what he wants directly.

"Me? I'm not fit to lead anyone." He's good for nobody right now.

"The men look up to you. You can't let them down. We all have our duty, Athos," Treville says. What he means is "Don't make a huge mistake."

He knows that his place is here with what remains of his brothers, but knowing that she is out there waiting for him doesn't seem fair.

He needs to explain why he has to stay in Paris, why he can't go to England with her. He needs to close that chapter of his life before stepping to the next one. With Aramis. He needs closure and if he can't reach her at the crossroads in time, he knows he'll never forgive himself.

He sighs and then he nods, thanking the former Captain for the opportunity he's given him. He'll never be like Treville, but he'll work on it.

The Minister smiles before steppings outside the church. Athos passes one hand over his face and he sighs again. He doesn't know if he's fit for the job, but he has to be. For his brothers. For himself.

\----------

The monk appointed to welcome him explains the routine of the monastery. He needs to rise at dawn, pray, work, eat, pray, work, work, pray, eat, and then go to sleep. Maybe Athos is right. Two days and he may run away from this place. He's so deep in his thoughts that when the monk asks him something he doesn't understand it.

"What"? he asks, confused.

"I ask if everything is clear. And if you need anything before I leave you alone," the monk repeats calmly.

"I understand everything and, thanks, I'm good." He smiles, reasssuring the monk.

"Perfect. On the bed are your new clothes. You can get rid of those that you have on. I'll come to collect you for the evening meal." He smiles again and leaves Aramis alone.

He sighs, closing the door behind him. The room is spare. There is a bed, a table with a chair, and a chest at the end of the bed. He sits on the bed near his "new clothes" as the monk said. He rubs his hand in his hair and on his face. He's tired and hungry. And he's alone. He doesn't like but he has to do it. He made a vow and a promise. He needs to honour them. He only doesn't know how.

He stands up and starts undressing. Every piece of clothing he takes off he folds neatly, putting it in the chest. When he's only in his smalls, he looks at the robe, waiting for the courage he doesn't know if he has. When he starts shivering, he knows he doesn't have time and he starts dressing.

When the monk arrives at his door, he's ready.

"Now you are as one of us. Did you decide how we can call you?" he asks, leading the way to the common room.

"René," he states simply.

The monk nods. "Welcome home, Brother René."

 


	5. Chapter 5

_Cold...Too much cold... White... Everything is covered by snow... Black... Black ravens on the white sheet... Red... Blood on the ground pouring from the bodies lying still in the snow... Blood on his hands clutched on Marsac...There's too much cold in the Chatelet...someone is crying in the distance... Pleading eyes are watching him from the darkness...”Please, don't go”..._

“Por favor... No... Anna... please...mi hijo...Not Athos... Not him... NOOOOOOOOOOOO”

Aramis bolts upright on the bed. He's sweating and he can't catch his breath. It's dark in this room. His room, he recalls. He's in the monastery and this is his new room. He tries to breathe normally with a little success. It's already a week he's been here and every night he has the same dream. Most of it is c lear in his mind except when he tries to remember the voice or the color of the eyes.

He stands up unsteady, rubbing his hands on his face. He pours some water in the glass on the table, drinking it in one sip. He then sits on the bed, back against the wall and watches the darkness swallow the room. He doesn't know what time is but he knows that he won't sleep again.

When the dawn arrives he's in the same position. His back hurts and he feels the nausea rising up. He feels tired and sick. He misses his past life and his brothers. He gets up, dressing for the new day, knowing that he'll eat nothing as he did yesterday and the day before. Every time Aramis tries to eat something he ends up throwing it back up. He sighs and opens the door, Brother Zachariah waiting for him as every day.

“Good morning. How are you feeling today?” he asks once Aramis starts walking.

“I'm fine,” he answers.

“Good, because the Prior wants the newest monks to do something different today. There are some rooms in the old wing that need to be reorganized. He said he needs those rooms if the war is coming here,” Zachariah tells him.

Aramis stops in the middle of the corridor. “What?” he asks, surprised.

“Yes. France has declared war on Spain. The news has arrived this morning and the Prior wants us ready. Not for fighting but for helping if the time comes.” Zachariah doesn't seem too worried about it. He continues walking without paying too much attention to a very pale Aramis behind him.

If the war is coming he needs to be beside his brothers not hiding in a monastery at the end of the World.

\----------

“Captain? Captain? Captain!”

Athos starts. He's still not used to the other Musketeers addressing him like that.

“Sorry, Luc. What is it?” He leans against the chair, tired. Dealing with the preparation for war, reporting to the King, working with the Minister, and commanding the regiment has stressed him out. He doesn't know how he has time to eat or sleep. To remember to do those things, the necessary things to live, he relies on Porthos, D'Artagnan, and especially on Madame D'Artagnan.

“...And the Queen asked for you,” Luc finishes.

“What?” He hadn't listened to a word.

“Captain, is everything alright?” Luc asks worriedly.

“Yes, thanks. I'm just busy, that's all,” he says, standing.

“I said that the King wants you to report to him and to the Minister as soon as possible and the Queen asked for you,” Luc repeats.

Athos thanks him, and after the boy leaves him he puts his hat on and closes the door of the office behind him.

“Athos, where are you going?” Porthos looks at him from his seat at their table.

“To the Palace. The King wants to see me,” he says, heading for the stables.

“I'll come with you,” Porthos says, striding to his side.

“No, I'll go alone. I need you and D'Artagnan here to supervise the preparation. I'll come back for dinner,” he says, smiling as he mounts his horse. He tips his hat in greetings and he rides out of the garrison.

Porthos shakes his head, wondering if the newlyweds are busy or if he can borrow D'Artagnan for the rest of the day.

\----------

The Queen paces back and forth outside her chambers. She needs to talk to the Captain in private and she can't stand stay near her husband when she is so twitchy.

Even Constance is nowhere to be seen.

“Your Majesty, you asked to see me?” Athos enters the room. He's changed, the Queen notices. His features are harder than the last time she saw him and he changed a little bit of everything, from his trimmed beard to his cleaned clothes. She notices the sash around his hips and she wonders if it's his or he borrowed it from someone else.

She straightens when he bows in front of her, trying to collect her thoughts.

“Yes. I'd like to know how everything is proceeding and, most important, if you have heard from our mutual friend.” She is so eager to know where he is and if he's alright that she doesn't care about the imminent war.

Athos sighs heavily, and for a moment the Queen sees him truly. He's sad and tired.

“No, unfortunately not. He didn't say where he will be and I haven't received even a letter from him for a month. If he doesn't want to be found, no one will find him,” he says simply.

The Queen looks at him with pleading eyes. “Please, Athos, If you hear something tell me immediately. He needs to be here,”  _for his son at least, if not for me._ She doesn't say it aloud.

“Yes, Your Majesty. When I know something more, I'll tell you.” He bows again when she dismisses him.

Once outside the room he runs his hands in his hair, thinking that he needs to bring Aramis back.

\----------

“Good evening, Madame D'Artagnan,” he says, taking off his hat once he is on the doorstep.

Porthos, after he returned from the Palace, had convinced him to join them for dinner and now Athos is in front of D'Artagnan lodgings.

“Good evening. Please come in,” Constance answers, letting the two men enter.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Constance?” she asks, heading for the little table where they'll eat tonight.

“Once again, Madame,” Athos replies, sitting next to Porthos. It's an old discussion between the two of them and they'll never find an end.

Constance snorts in exasperation, looking to her husband for help. D'Artagnan shrugs and then he smiles at her.

Once they are all sitting around the table they start eating. At the beginning they share their dinner in amiable silence then, when the wine starts running through their veins, they start chatting.

“Really, Athos, I can't believe that after almost six years you still call me Madame. I don't know anymore if it's pleasant or irritating,” Constance says after D'Artagnan and Porthos cleared the table.

Athos smiles and, after a sip from his glass, he answers. “It's only politeness, Madame. I was raised in a certain manner and I don't think it's right to call a lady with her given name.”

She stares back at him. And then at D'Artagnan who gives her a look that means  _Drop it. Leave him be_ . And then again at Athos. She opens and closes her mouth before she can speak and seem too improper.

“Athos, I know that you are polite and everything. But I gave you my permission long time ago and I believe that, as a family, we can drop all the formal language,” she tries again.

“I know, but I don't think it's proper to call you anything than Madame,” he replies.

“If I don't know you better, I'd smack you for your stubbornness,” she says, standing.

“He isn't Aramis who you could slap every time you want, Constance,” cackles Porthos.

“At least he called me with my given name from the beginning,” she smiles, starting to wash the dishes.

“Also because he'll never see you as Madame D'Artagnan!” Porthos exclaims.

“Or maybe it's because you remember him of his sister,” Athos explains simply.

“No, believe me. He'll never believe that she married the boy!” Porthos continues.

“And he'll try to convince me he is a better suitor,” Constance smiles again. She really does miss Aramis. Everyone misses him. Especially Athos.

She dries her hands on a clean rag. D'Artagnan waits for her with open arms and when she leans against him he kisses her on the forehead.

She looks at these men that became her family and thinks that even if Aramis isn't here they have to go on and cherish every moment they have. She smiles again when Porthos states that he has to put Athos to bed or he'll fall asleep where he is to the delight of D'Artagnan.

Athos snorts at the statement and after he says goodnight to the couple he follows Porthos outside.

Constance closes the door behind them and thinks that everything will be fine.

 


	6. Chapter 6

His head is pounding and he feels dizzy. He never feels fine when the summer comes but now, with the lack of sleep, the soreness in his bones and muscles and being always alert, he finds the heat unbearable. They are in Aquitaine near the border with Spain and here the landscape is a stretch of desert, hot and dusty desert. He tries to stay straight and still in the saddle but it's almost impossible. He feels the sweat running down his back and his grip on the reins loosens, he sways a little to the side but a strong hand catches him.

“Hey, Athos, is everything alright?” Porthos asks worriedly.

“I'm fine,” he answers, trying to hold still.

“We're almost at the campsite, hold on a little bit,” the big musketeer reassures him.

He doesn't know if he has that little bit in him or if he should collapse here and now.

Porthos seems to understand that he hasn't time and he takes the reins from him leading both the horses to the camp.

When they arrive, Porthos dismounts before help Athos do the same. When his feet touch the ground he leans against his horse trying to steady himself. The movement makes his shoulder hurt and he pulls it back against him. He closes his eyes, concentrating on breathing through the pain. He knows that it's not broken but he still needs to let someone look it.

“Please, let me help you,” Porthos whispers, putting his big and warm hand on his back. He whimpers because the contact make his body warmer but he let his friend leads him to his tent.

“Dubois, I need a basin with fresh water and a cloth. Bring them to the Captain's tent as soon as possible,” Porthos says to a young musketeer.

“Deveraux, call D'Artagnan. Tell him that I need a medic!” he shouts to another.

Once inside the tent, the big man leads Athos to the cot and when he sits, he start undressing him. The fact that Athos let him do this is itself a statement of the bad condition he is in.

Dubois enters the tent carrying what Porthos requested and a pitcher and glasses too.

“Thanks, Dubois, dismissed,” he smiles at the musketeer and then he starts working.

He put the cloth in the basin letting the water wet it and then he pours some water from the pitcher in a glass and help Athos drink.

When the cloth is completely wet, he squeezes it a little bit, rubbing it on Athos face and neck, cooling the skin a little bit.

D'Artagnan chooses that moment to run into the tent. “What happened?” he asks, stopping in front of the cot.

“We were attacked,” Porthos explains, not diverting his eyes from the task.

“What happened?” D'Artagnan raises his voice. Porthos turns quickly when a moan escapes from Athos.

“Keep your voice low. We were attacked while we were scouting. A Spanish raid. One of them knocked him from the horse. He hit his shoulder and probably his head in the fall. I'm fine, only bruises,” Porthos explains while he continues rubbing the cloth on Athos. “He doesn't deal well with the heat and the probable concussion doesn't help,” he states after wetting the cloth again.

D'Artagnan approaches the Captain. “Athos, can I look at your head and shoulder?”

“'Mis?” he whispers.

He tries not to wince at the nickname. “No, I'm not Aramis, I'm D'Artagnan. Remember, I'm the new medic. Can I examine you?”

“D'Art,” Athos opens his eyes and nods at the boy in front of him.

The medic smiles and starts lightly touching Athos' head. At the same time he finds a bump in the back of the head, a whimper escapes from the Captain.

“Sorry. Yes, I think he hit his head. Nothing that a good night of sleep can heal. Now let me look at that shoulder,” he smiles reassuringly, passing to the other injury. He can't see anything out of order and touching it he doesn't feel bumps or anything else. He put one hand on the front and there's nothing there too.

“Did you hear a crack or something?” he asks to a sweating Athos, who shakes his head unable to speak because he's in too much pain.

“I think it's only sprained. Even with that you need to rest,” he states before helping Athos lay down.

He motions for Porthos to go with him to the entrance of the tent.

“He really need to rest. I can take care of the men if you want to stay here with him,” he says simply. Better say the truth with them.

Porthos look from him to Athos, lying on the cot, eyes closed, sweating, and then to him again.

“If you're not busy with the infirmary...” he starts.

“I left it it all in Laurent's hands. Stay here with him. And call me if you need me,” D'Artagnan concludes before heading outside.

“Same to you, boy,” Porthos replies, returning to his job.

Athos is laying on his left side, eyes closed, his right arm cradled in his left one and a trace of pain on his face. Porthos sits down beside him on the nearest chair watching his friend.

“'Mis?” Athos whispers again.

“No, my friend, it's only me, Porthos. Now sleep. You need your strength back if you must attend the Council tomorrow,” he says.

_I miss him too, my friend. He would know what to do if he was here._ He concludes in his head.

Almost two years and it still hurt like the first day.

\----------

It's been almost two years since the news about the war and he feels good. It's strange how he passed from worrying for his brothers, wanting to run and help them dealing with it, to this, but he feels fine. At first he thought it was a solution to go back to them, return to his previous life, but then, after thinking about what could happen if he went back, he decided to stay in the monastery.

It's the best decision he could make. Two years in which he learned how to live without them. How to live following the rules of the monastery. He's not a novice anymore and he thinks he could go on with this life, taking the vows and become an Abbè. In these two years he improved his medicine skills and, how did the Prior say it, if the life of the church isn't his true calling he could choose to become a doctor instead. He's thinking about it too.

Now that he doesn't pass his days closed inside, he spends his free time riding in the countryside. The Aquitaine is one of the most beautiful places in France. He feels free and happy even if there is more news about the war approaching. He'll be ready for that too. Thanks to the old musket he found in the old wing that time he and other novices had to reorganize it. He keeps it clean and loaded for every circumstance. Brother Zachariah has became a good friend. He can talk with him about everything, or almost everything, and he doesn't feel alone anymore.

The nightmares are still there. Sometimes he dreams about Anna and his son, sometimes it's Marsac and his brothers dead in Savoy. Sometimes all he can think about is Athos. Those dreams are maybe the worst. They go from pleasant to horrifying. From the common thing like riding or sparring to them both in shackles or on a stake burning. Those times he wakes up with panic attacks that are hard to subdue. Brother Zachariah finds him in those moments sweating and trembling, trying hard to catch his breath. He says nothing but helps him through them as best as he can and then, when Aramis is so exhausted he can't even lift a finger, he sits near the bed, reading and letting him sleep.

He's still not sure why every time he dreams about Athos he longs for him and he's not sure either about what happened the night he left but he knows, whatever it is, he needs to figuring it out before he goes back.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this terrible delay but real life took over and I was unable to post it sooner. 
> 
> Anyway the new chapter is here and I shut up.
> 
> Only one last thing. Thanks for the kudos and the messages. They're really appreciated!!!

\-----

He doesn't like this place anymore. He grew tired two days after he arrived and now, after two year spent so far from Paris, he wishes he could go back. His clothes stink, his hair too, and he feels sick and tired. He longs for a soft bed and a warm meal. And he prays to never see this place again.

“Captain,” Dubois greets him when he enters the tent. Athos look up from his papers, the hours spent debating with the Savoyard's Captain left him with a terrible headache, as if he hadn't had one already, and he tries to not flinch at the sharp voice of the musketeer in front of him. His arm hurts so much that he can't lift it even if he tries.

D'Artagnan came back to check on him in the morning, declaring that he needs, at least, another two days without moving his arm. He almost growled at him and then he turned to Porthos, asking if he could help him put his shirt and doublet on. The boy sighed and left him to the big musketeer, hoping he could talk some sense in him.

Now he regrets he didn't listen to him.

“A letter from Paris,” the musketeer in front of the table states, delivering it.

Athos nods and the musketeer leaves him. He opens and reads it as soon as he's alone. The letter is from Minister Treville, informing him that, unexpectedly, her Majesty is with child again, and the King has granted a leave for him, D'Artagnan, and Porthos. His Majesty expected them ten days from when they receiving the missive. No delay.

He read again the part about the pregnancy, sighing at the thought of traveling and then he opens another envelope that was with Treville's letter, the papers granting them leave.

He runs outside the tent, directly to the lieutenant's one.

“Athos, what are you doing here? D'Artagnan told you to rest.” Porthos stands up from his cot.

“I'll rest when we reach Paris,” he says, dismissing his injuries.

“What are you talking about? You hit your head harder than I thought,” he says, cutting the distances between them, placing an hand on his brother's head.

“I'm fine, Porthos, stop being a big mother hen,” he says and moves away. “The King wants us to leave as soon as possible,” he continues handing him the letter.

“What? Why?” the big musketeer asks, watching his friend carefully.

“The Queen is with child and, evidently, the King is so happy to have another heir that he wants us as soon as possible in Paris so he can celebrate properly,” he says simply.

“D'Artagnan won't like it, especially if you ride in your condition,” Porthos answers him.

“Yes, but he left a wife back there. I think the prospect of seeing her could change his mind about me,” he says, grinning at his brother.

“You tell him,” Porthos states, pointing at the entrance. Athos turns and sees D'Artagnan enters, staring at him.

“What do you have to tell me?” he asks, leaving his scolding for Athos aside for now.

“We heading to Paris tomorrow morning. The king wants us there in ten days. No delay,” Athos' answer sounds like an order.

“You're not fit to ride. I can't let you go,” D'Artagnan replies angrily.

“The three of us are leaving tomorrow, or no one goes. And only God knows when we'll be able to go back home again. Are you planning to write to your wife telling her that you refused to go to her because of me, or you want to be in Paris with her for the next few days?” Athos replies coldly. He hates sounding so demanding but he needs to leave this hell of a place and pretend this last two years never happened for some time at least.

“Fine. But we settling everything and you rest. And promise me you'll tell me when your arm hurts or you're too tired to go on,” D'Artagnan agrees reluctantly.

Athos nods, accepting everything the boy said.

“And you'll take some medicine for the pain,” the young musketeer finishes.

Athos winces at that but he doesn't say anything. D'Artagnan seems satisfied so he leaves his two brothers behind.

“He's worse than Aramis,” Porthos states as soon as D'Artagnan is out of earshot.

Athos cringes at hearing that name, thinking that his wish to pretend that everything is fine won't be satisfied if he's not here.

Porthos tries to apologize but Athos only shrugs. The headache is worse than before and he needs to lay down as soon as possible.

He returns to his tent, trusting the other two to arrange everything for tomorrow's departure.

\----------

When they arrive at the City gates, a day before the deadline, Athos heaves a sigh of relief. The journey was troubleless but his head and especially his shoulder gave him a lot of pain. D'Artagnan did his job but, as Porthos said, he's not Aramis and he missed his ministrations.

“Home sweet home,” Porthos states once they're inside the city walls.

“Yes. In two years it's hardly changed,” D'artagnan replies, spurring his horse to canter.

Athos knows the boy is anxious to be home quickly. These last few meters are worse than the whole journey.

He let D'Artagnan and Porthos lead the way while he tries to go slower if possible. He feels drained and he wants to sleep for the next ten days.

They arrive at the garrison in no time and, except for Serge and the stable boy, the yard is deserted. They dismount and when Athos starts to climb the stairs to his office, he sees a lonely figure at the top of it.

“Don't say anything, I want to be a surprise,” she whispers.

“My lips are sealed,” he smiles at the woman.

“It's good to see you, Athos,” she continues smiling too.

“The pleasure is mine, Madame D'Artagnan,” he tips his hat and enters in his office, leaving the woman to wait for her husband alone.

\----------

He didn't see either D'Artagnan or Constance since her squeals of joy the day before and he's worried that the boy might not arrive in the yard in time.

Porthos is standing beside him, a mischievous grin lightening his face.

“We'll be late, and the King will be angry,” he states after he glances at the doors for the umpteenth time.

“He'll be here soon,” the big musketeer reassures him.

He looks at him and opens the mouth to retort, but a sound of boots approaches. “Sorry, I'm late but Constance...” D'Artagnan greets them.

“Please don't. I don't want to know the details of your night,” Porthos stops him, putting his hands on his ears. D'Artagnan grins and mounts on his horse ready to ride to the Palace.

\----------

The King and the Minister receive them as soon as they step in the throne room. Athos bows and when he looks up he sees Her Majesty sitting on her throne, a forced smile on her pale face. She doesn't even try to rise. He cuts the distance and bows again. She holds her skinny hand in front of her and Athos kisses it.

“Your Majesty, I heard about the wonderful news. Congratulations,” he says, still bowing.

“Thank you, Captain. I hope this pregnancy will be just as well as the other one,” she replies in a weak voice. He smiles unable to think that this will be a dreadful one, if she can survive at all.

He stands after she squeezes his hand and turns at the sound of a door opened.

“Mama!” a toddler runs into the room heading for the Queen. The King stops him in the middle, picking him up.

“Louis, be careful, don't rush like this to your Mother,” he says scolding the child. “Be the Prince you are and meet these men,” he continues, turning the squirming boy so he can facing the three musketeers in front of him.

As soon as Athos sees him, he has no doubt.

This is Aramis' son.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMG almost 20 days without posting? I'm sorry, I'm really really terrible!
> 
> I hope to have the next chapter ready for the next week.

Zachariah bursts into his room at the first light of day. “The war! The war is here!”. Aramis bolts upright from his sprawled position on the bed. He feels awake in an instant.

“Who?” he asks. He knows that, based on which side is near the monastery, they could help or not.

“I don't know. They're too far,” Zachariah answers. Aramis takes the musket from under the bed, the bullets from the chest and follows a bewildered monk to the point of observation.

He loads the musket on the way and when they arrive he warns Brother Zachariah to stay away from the window.

He puts the musket next to him and then he looks out. He's always had a good sight and, even if it's dawn, he can recognize the color of the flags. They're blue and gold. And if his eyes don't betray him, the things in gold are fleur de lys. He sighs and, turning, he slides on the floor, drained.

“French,” he declares in a whisper. Brother Zachariah looks at him as he didn't hear him.

“They're French, thank God,” he repeats a little bit louder.

“So, it's good?” Brother Zachariah asks.

“Yes, it's very good. It means that the Spanish didn't go beyond the border and they didn't invade France. We are safe. The people of Pau are safe.” He smiles, thinking that his brothers, the other brothers, will keep the people and the monks safe. He only hopes that this is enough.

\----------

Life at the monastery goes on as usual. The monks pray for most of the day and work in the camp. Aramis passes his days studying on his medicine books, refining his knowledge about the wounds war causes. The Prior asks him to teach the other monks about it, thinking that with the war at the doors, more people knowing how to treat those kind of wounds means less soldiers would die.

Aramis takes this task very seriously, knowing that he'll need all the help he can have if those soldiers, those musketeers, arrive at the monastery wounded.

So he passes the days between studying and teaching, with a little time for prayers and work. When he goes to bed he feels alive, as he never felt in these last four years.

The war is coming nearer every day. He hopes they'll be ready when it knocks on the door.

\----------

“Brother Renè!” Someone knocks on his door. He shifts and turns, waking up slowly.

“Brother Renè!” The voice calls him louder. He shifts again, leaving Athos and the dream behind, and he opens one eye.

“Renè!” Zachariah shouts, banging on the door. He stands up, putting his robe on, and heading for the door. Zachariah doesn't even let him open it before he catches Aramis' arm leading him away from the room. He has only the time to put the cowl on his head, feeling the chill air of winter already in his bones.

“There are some soldiers at the gates of the monastery. I think they need help. But I can't wake up the Prior in the middle of the night, and if they need help you are the best medic we know,” he explains without taking a breath.

Aramis runs faster and when he's almost at the gates he sees two figures and one of them has what look like a bundle of clothes in his arms. The man is big and is darker than the night itself. Aramis feel a pang of sadness at the thought that that man could be Porthos and maybe the tall and slim man next to him could be D'Artagnan, or Athos. He approaches the monks on guard at the gates and then he hears a plea from the slim one. “Please, help us. Our friend is gravely wounded and he needs a doctor,” he tries to reason with the monks. Aramis thinks that he's not as awake as he thought because it seems to him to be the voice of D'Artagnan. But it can't be because his friends are far away from here.

“We can't let you in, we can't wake the Prior and you need to wait until morning,” one of them replies.

“He'll be dead in the morning!” the big man growls. Aramis flinches at the tone. The voice belongs to Porthos.

“Brother Antoine, Brother François, let them in,” Brother Zachariah orders. “Brother Renè will look at him and I will personally inform the Prior first thing in the morning. There is no need to let this man die if we can help him and his friends. It's our duty after all,” he finishes, watching carefully as the other monks open the gates.

Aramis watches what he now knows to be his older brothers enter the monastery and as they get close to him he sees that the bundle of clothes is a man. He motions for a torch and when he can see better he moves away a strand of hair from him and freezes. It's Athos.

He tries to stay calm and quiet and without utter a word he turns, directed into the monastery. He hears footsteps behind him and he knows that his friends and Brother Zachariah follow him.

He leads them into one of the rooms assigned to the infirmary pointing to a bed, where Porthos lies Athos ,while he lights the candles. He is grateful that he still has the cowl on, or with the candles and the fire that Brother Zachariah starts, Porthos and D'Artagnan could recognize him. Still silent, he starts to undress his brother looking for the wound.

“They shot him in the back. I have a little medical skill but this is beyond my abilities. He lost a lot of blood and when we found him, after the battle, he was already unconscious,” D'Artagnan explains to the silent monk.

He grabs Brother Zachariah leading him outside the door.

“Brother Renè is everything alright?” he asks, worried.

“No. Those men are old friends and they don't know I'm here. Can I ask you a favor? Can you settle them in a room while I try to save Athos?” Only being able to finally say that name aloud makes Aramis happy.

“Yes, of course. Do you need my help then?” he replies, not asking the other question he is thinking.

Aramis nods when he hears someone behind him.

“If you monks are finished talking, my friend needs you,” Porthos growls.

Aramis nods again, heading for the bed.

Zachariah does as he asked and reluctantly Porthos and D'Artagnan follow him outside.

Athos is spread on his front, pale but for an ugly red bullet hole in his lower back. The blood stopped pouring out but this is not a good news. Aramis looks at him for a moment, then he starts working. He touches the wound lightly, searching for the bullet he knows is still inside. He finds it after awhile and he understand why the bleeding stopped. The bullet is stuck in the tissues and if he tries to remove it, Athos could die.

He needs to do it or he dies anyway. Cursing under his breath, he cuts the hole larger and then he put the fingers inside. Brother Zachariah finds him like this and he runs to help him.

Aramis tell him what he needs to do and he pulls his fingers out. He drives Zachariah's fingers into the wound and then with the help of tweezers, he grabs the bullet while the monk closes the hole with two fingers.

“Hold like this, while I thread the needle,” he orders. Brother Zachariah nods, watching Aramis carefully.

“Why they don't know you are here? Are you not a fugitive right?” he asks suddenly.

“No, I'm not a fugitive, but I don't want them near me. I'm a menace,” Aramis replies softly.

“What happened?” Zachariah tries again.

“I put them in danger and I now I need to stay away from them,” he says, putting the needle in the bullet hole. He tells the monk to slowly slide the fingers out and then he proceeds to put in the stitches.

When the last stitch is placed and the wound is completely closed, Aramis puts a salve on it, hoping that there won't be an infection and then he slides to the floor exhausted.

He doesn't know how much time he passed on the floor but when he opens his eyes Porthos and D'Artagnan are in the room and there is light coming from the windows. Both are speaking softly trying to not disturb neither Athos nor Brother Renè. He still has the cowl on so his friends still don't know who is he. Porthos notices that the monk sitting on the floor is awake so when he tries to stand up and his legs don't cooperate the musketeer hauls him up, steadying him when he sways.

“Thank you,” Aramis whispers hoping his brother won't realise who is he.

“Don't even mention it. You saved my brother and I'll be eternally grateful to you,” Porthos squeezes Brother Renè and when he makes contact with the musketeer he can't help the little moan that escape his mouth.

“I think that you don't touch many people in this place, right?” Porthos smiles when he let go of the monk.

“No, unfortunately not,” he replies, keeping his voice low and muffled by the robe. He looks up in time to see Porthos smile at D'Artagnan and then at him.

“I think it's time for me to retire. I will come back later to see if your friend is out of danger,” Aramis whispers. He bows and slips outside the room, closing his eyes and sighs. He notices that there is too much noise for a normal day and when he reopens his eyes he knows why. The wing of the monastery is full of injured musketeers and French soldiers.

\----------

When Aramis finishes helping most of the monks with the injured soldiers it's time for dinner. He didn't see Porthos and D'Artagnan for the whole day and he thinks that both his friends would be with Athos. This thought brings another one, if he didn't see them it means that he really saved Athos and he is alright.

He put his cowl on and he brings stew to them and broth for Athos. When he enters the room he sees Porthos pacing in front of the window and D'Artagnan dozing on a chair near the bed where Athos rests peacefully.

“I have brought dinner,” he states, leaving the bowl on the little table. “I know it's not much but it's what we have,” he apologizes.

D'Artagnan, who opens his eyes at the mention of food, smiles. “It's enough, thank you,”

“Eat while I check on him,” he continues, heading for the bed. Athos is a little bit pink from the last time he saw him and someone, maybe Porthos, has turned him on his uninjured side, propping him with some pillows. He touches the skin feeling that it's only a little warm, he changes the salve and then, satisfied, he watches him carefully.

In four years away from them ,he thinks that the feelings he has for this man would vanish, leaving him free, but now seeing him here he knows that he only ran away from what really is in his heart.

He sighs, deciding that it's not the time for these thoughts and proceed to take the bowl with the broth, trying to put some of it in Athos. He manages only three spoons and then Athos is coughing and hissing in pain.

Porthos runs to his side, grasping the robe and pushing him aside.

“Shh, Athos, we're here. Everything is alright. You're safe. I know it hurts but try to breathe with me and the pain will go away,” he whispers to the man on the bed.

Aramis stays away from them, becoming one with the wall. He watches what's happening in front of him, trying to not remember that he was part of that routine when one of the others was sick or wounded.

He watches Porthos runs an hand on Athos' head while with the other he squeezes Athos' shoulder. He whispers in his ear and after a little bit the wounded musketeer is calm and he's almost completely asleep.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what happened,” Aramis whispers.

“Don't worry, my friend Porthos is an overreacting mother hen,” D'Artagnan smiles, patting his back.

From the bed the big musketeer grunts in reply and at that even a sleepy Athos lets a tiny smile forms on his lips.

Aramis nods, relaxing a little. “You must finish your dinner before it gets cold,” he attempts.

Porthos look at Athos and when he sees that everything is fine, he stands up and retakes his place on the chair next to D'Artagnan's.

He approaches the bed, asking if Athos could take some more broth and when he receives a small nod of approval he resumes his task. This time the musketeer almost finishes the broth and when he shakes his head Aramis knows that he can't force him anymore.

He stands up, but an hand clasps his wrist and he stops.

“'Mis,” it's a whisper but Aramis freezes.

“Aramis is not here, Athos,” Porthos gets close, taking the hand wrapped around the wrist. “He's only a monk that took care of you last night. Leave him,” he explains. Aramis can't move and Athos is tightly gripping his wrist. He needs to leave the room soon or he doesn't know what will happen.

He tries to pull but the grip is stronger, as the man isn't injured. Porthos soothes Athos convincing him to let go of the poor monk.

D'Artagnan joins the big musketeer without much success. Aramis continues to pull until he feel the grip loosen and he stumbles forward. The cowl slip from his head and when he look behind he sees two pair of astonished eyes looking at him.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! I’ll not be able to post the next one soon because I’m going on holiday and I’ll not have my computer with me.

 

Porthos and D'Artagnan stare, stunned, at the man in front of them. Porthos is a mixture of disbelief and hurt, and that alone pains Aramis. The boy, on the other hand, looks surprised. Aramis glances at Athos but the big musketeer blocks his view, looking angrier.

“I can explain,” he murmurs, looking everywhere but in front of him.

D'Artagnan smiles, trying to run to him, but Porthos' hand blocks him.

“Don't,” it is all Porthos growls.

“Please,” Aramis begs.

“Get. Out. Of. Here. Now.” Porthos watches him with a murderous look.

He bows his head and, without say anything else, he leaves the room.

After the door is closed Porthos turns to Athos, only to see his friend asleep.

_I hope he didn't see what happened._

“Porthos,” D'Artagnan whispers.

“Don't,” he repeats. He can't think about what happened now. He always thought that the reunion with Aramis would be more hugs, laughs and tears, with him crossing the garrison gates with his old uniform and a smile. He didn't picture it like this. Now his only concern is Athos’ well-being. Aramis doesn't know how it was living with Athos in these last four years. The war and the leadership didn't improve his already miserable mood and when he's not busy giving orders, he drowns his sorrow in the wine. Porthos knows that they swore to protect Aramis, but now he needs to protect Athos from him.

“I’m going to bed. Call me if he wakes or he needs something.” He opens the door, heading for the room Brother Renè, Aramis he corrects himself, gave them the night before.

D'Artagnan watches Porthos leave the room, sighing deeply when the door closes behind his brother.

“Now there is only us,” he whispers, positioning one chairs near Athos' bed. He puts his feet on the cover starting his vigil.

\----------

Neither D'Artagnan nor Porthos see Aramis for the next few days. Another monk shows up the next morning to change Athos' bandages and see if they need something. Porthos is standing facing the window and it seems he doesn't even notice the monk, let alone the request. D'Artagnan stands up from his position at the end of Athos' bed and leads the monk to the door.

“We're good for now, thanks,” he smiles.

“I'll bring you supper then, when it's ready.” The monk bows, leaving them.

When D'Artagnan turns, he sees two blue eyes look at him. “Athos, how are you?”

“My back hurts like hell,” he replies, closing his eyes. “How long..?” he whispers.

“Four days,” D'Artagnan answers.

Athos nods and then he looks at Porthos.

“Leave him be. He's worried for you and this place is not improving his mood,” the young Gascon says, sitting again at the end of the bed.

“'Mis?” it's all Athos says.

D'Artagnan look carefully at the big man in front of the window, trying to figure out if he heard what Athos said or not. When Porthos doesn't move, he relaxes a bit, nodding at Athos.

“I don't like this place either,” the Captain says faintly. “Maybe it's why I thought the other monk was him,” he continues, closing his eyes falling asleep once again.

\----------

“We need to tell him,” D'Artagnan hisses, standing close to Porthos.

“No,” he replies without hesitation.

“Porthos, he needs to know. Sooner or later he'll discover it himself and he'll be angry with the both of us for not telling him,” he tries again.

“No. Knowing he's hiding here for all this time will make Athos angry. I’m only trying to protect him,” Porthos whispers, trying to not wake up his brother.

“You don't know. And I know you're angry with him but you need to face him before we leave. Why is it so difficult for you to forgive him? And don't try to tell me again it’s because he ran away when you needed him the most because I didn't believe you the first time let alone this one,” he tries to keep his voice low but with Porthos it is impossible.

“Because he left, and I thought I lost Athos too. You remember how he was the first few days after he left. It was like when we met him the first time. And now he's better and if he knows that he's here and he doesn’t come back with us, I fear we'll lose Athos too,” he sighs, facing the window again.

“Porthos, we’ll never know if we don't try,” D'Artagnan puts a hand on his brother's shoulder. “At least now we know where he is, and that he's fine. This is important,” he finishes.

Porthos nods, squeezes his eyes and then he nods again. D'Artagnan smiles. “Wait here, I be back in a minute,” he says already running out of the room. Porthos sighs, watching outside the window.

\----------

D'Artagnan runs between the cots full of injured soldiers searching for Aramis. He stops when he sees a familiar face, it's the monk who was with Aramis when they brought Athos inside.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you but I need your help. I need to find the monk who performed surgery on my friend, it's important,” he says, catching his breath.

“Do you mean Brother Renè? I don't know if it's a good idea but you said it's important so everything else doesn't matter. You find him in the chapel, in the dormitory wing. He goes there when he needs to be alone,” Brother Zachariah explains.

D'Artagnan thanks him and then he starts to run again. He slows down only when he arrives in the dormitory. He walks down the corridor searching for the chapel. It's easier that he thought when, turning, he sees an open door at the end of it.

The room is small with a few benches, fewer candles lit and a small crucifix on a table. In a corner slumped on one of the bench there is Aramis. The cowl down on his shoulders, eyes closed, hands joined and a crucifix in them, a prayer on his lips. He doesn't notice D'Artagnan until he sits next to him on the bench.

“Brother Renè,” he calls him. Aramis opens his eyes, smiling at the faint mockery of his priest name.

“Monsieur D'Artagnan,” he replies, sitting on the bench. Then it hits him “Athos?”.

“He's alive and he's healing thanks to you,” D'Artagnan smiles.

“And why are you here?” he asks.

“To apologize. It was a blow for us finding you here and Porthos is a little stressed and seeing you didn't help,”

“Don't worry, it was a blow for me too. I thought I was going insane,” he smiles but this time it doesn't reach his eyes.

“Athos will wake up soon and Porthos wants apologize to you personally, so why don't we go?” he asks, rising up. Aramis looks at him like he's crazy. “Are you sure?” he asks. D'Artagnan nods, giving a hand to his brother. Aramis takes it and uses it as leverage to stand up and throw himself into D'Artagnan arms.

“I missed you,” the younger musketeer whispers as soon as he has his face burrowed in Aramis' neck.

“Me too,” Aramis whispers back. They hold each other tight for a few moments and then they withdraw. They smile and D'Artagnan pats his shoulder. “Let's go,” he says.

\----------

Athos wakes up to find that only Porthos is in the room with him.

“I did something wrong for you to act like this?” he asks as soon as the dizziness vanishes.

Porthos turns and then shakes his head. “No, you didn't do anything wrong.” He sits on the chair near the bed, helping the Captain sip the water the monk brought.

“D'Artagnan?” he asks when he finishes.

“Searching for the monk who saved you,” Porthos can't reveal the truth yet.

“Why?” Athos inquires. He doesn't like Porthos' behavior.

“Because there's something you need to see. We... I kept it from you from the day after your surgery and I can't keep it anymore. So if you'll be angry, be it with me, and leave D'Artagnan out of it.” He stands, unable to look for another moment into Athos' blue eyes.

He resumes his post on the window in time with D'Artagnan return. “Athos, you're awake!” the Gascon almost shouts. He stops the moment he sees the confused look on his Captain face and Porthos' stance.

“Porthos...” he starts to say.

“I didn't say anything,” the big man replies.

“What did he have to say?” Athos asks, looking between them.

“We discovered something while you were injured. You were dreaming and you thought, as you said, that the monk was Aramis. Well... it turn out you were right,” it's only a whisper at the end.

“What are you talking about?” Athos asks, lifting up from his position. He hisses in pain at the movement but then he looks D'Artagnan closely.

The Gascon turns, opens the door and let the monk, waiting outside, enters the room.

“Aramis?” Athos whispers, disbelieving.

“Yes, it's me,” he says walking to the bed.

At that Athos makes a sound between a laugh and a sob opening his arms.

Aramis throws himself at him careful about the wound, his head on Athos' chest and his hands gripping the shirt.

“Shhhhh, I've got you. I've got you. I've got you.” It's all Porthos and D'Artagnan can understand and neither of them know who says that. They only know that their brothers need a moment for themselves and quietly they slip out of the room.

 


	10. Chapter 10

 “Aramis.” It's only a whisper but it's all it takes for Aramis to look up. After what seems like hours but are only minutes, they're still in the same position and Athos is eager to look properly at his brother for the first time in four years. He brushes his hand on Aramis' face until his fingers rest on his mouth. Aramis smiles and Athos knows what he has to do. He kisses him. He waited four years for another kiss and he doesn't want to lose the opportunity. The kiss is nothing compared to the one they shared four years ago. It's sweet and slow and, unfortunately, short. When they break apart, Aramis smiles, biting his lower lip and Athos only wants to take that mouth again. Too soon Aramis places his head on Athos chest again.

“Sorry... I'm so sorry,” he whispers.

“It's alright 'Mis, it's everything alright.” Athos strokes his hair. He doesn't know why he's sorry about but he keeps saying that knowing that it's all Aramis needs to know.

“Now it's really fine. The war is almost over and we'll go home soon. Together,” he says again.

“I can't,” Aramis says with his face still burrowed in his brother’s chest. “I can't go home. I have to stay here,” he goes on, looking at Athos now.

“Aramis, it's not necessary to stay here anymore.” He watches the other, thinking about the Queen and the Dauphin. Louis had forgotten about the treason the moment he saw his two sons together. No one wants to remember that period and the man who almost destroyed the reign.

“It's not that, Athos. I still have something to do here. I promise. When I'm done here I come back home. But not until then,” he explains, standing up.

“Why is so important to stay here?” Athos asks. “Don't you want to come home? With us? With me?”

“Yes, I do, but this is my place. In four years I never completely understand what I was doing here. I came here for what happened with Rochefort, but I realized why I needed to stay here only four days ago. When the news about the war reached us I thought I needed to go back to Paris. But something stopped me. Four days ago I knew what that thing was. If I joined you then I never can save you. I learned more things that I could imagine about medicine and, you, here, looking at me, it's the result of those sleepless nights. I know it sounds crazy but it's all true. This was my path from the beginning and I need to follow it until the end.” He sighs sitting again on the bed.

Athos reaches for his hand and squeezing it tightly. “It's really what you want?”

Aramis nods.

“So finish what you have here, but then come back home, to me. I'll wait for you.” He smiles, pulling Aramis against him and kissing him again.

A knock on the door breaks the spell and Aramis reluctantly pull away from Athos, standing up again.

“I need to go. I'll come back later to check on you,” he smiles again, heading for the door when it opens, revealing Porthos and D'Artagnan.

“Where are you going?” D'Artagnan asks.

“I have some work to do but I'll come back, don't worry,” he smirks, expecting some persuading to stay from Porthos but he only nods, sitting on the chair next to Athos' bed.

Aramis looks at his three friends and then something strikes him. They show the signs of the war, they're thinner and they seem older but there's something else. He watches carefully every one of them, and then his eyes linger on Athos.

He looks at the man knowing there is something off. After some time he understands.

“Athos, what happened to your beard?” Aramis says shyly. Porthos turns his head watching Aramis.

“His beard? And your hair? What the hell is that thing you have?” Porthos exclaims pointing at the tiny ponytail. “If you don't bear your hair anymore you would cut it instead on putting it in that!” he goes on.

“Nobody can touch my hair! And anyway did you see yours? You look like a mad man with that hair! And what happened to D'Artagnan? I bet nobody bought you a hat before the war, or yours would be less messy,” Aramis rising his voice.

Then he points on the armors in a corner. “And what are those? The King didn't have enough money to build proper armors for his musketeers? Did you see yourself in those or have the Spanish broke every mirror in France?”

“Hey! I like my armor! And I saw myself in the mirror, thank you. My wife thinks that it suits me well,” D'Artagnan exclaims.

“What? Your wife? What have I missed? The boy has a wife? Why I am the last one to know things?” Aramis forgets about the armors and instead looks curiously at D'Artagnan.

“I married Constance before the war. We didn't want to wait so much. And we have a little boy too,” he smiles, thinking about his family.

“Oh My God! You... you have a son? Oh My God! I really missed a lot.” He leans against the wall.

D'Artagnan smiles thinking that, yes, Aramis missed most of the last news in their life, but he'll catch up as soon as he'll be with them in Paris.

“Olivier will be enthusiastic to meet another uncle,” Porthos laughs. “And, maybe, he'll learn to smack you on the head like his mother,” he continues smiling.

“At least I hope he is like his mother in behaving and not like his father,” Aramis laughs too.

“Hey! I'm not that bad!” D'Artagnan replies, almost offended.

Aramis and Porthos burst laughing at the face the younger musketeer is making.

“I hate you both,” he pouts and the others two laugh harder than before.

“Gentlemen, please,” Athos drawls as if they didn't part for four years. The other three stop bickering immediately. Aramis shuts his mouth and turns to look at him, while Porthos and D'Artagnan look down, whispering their apologies.

“I'm sorry. I don't know what happened and I shouldn't shout like that with you so ill. I should leave you to rest. We will see each other later.” He bows and turns leaving his friends alone.

Athos bites his bottom lip, sinking deeper in the pillow. He missed the teasing and the brotherhood between them. He only hopes that, once back in Paris, they can resume everything from when the parted. He smiles, closing his eyes, believing what he said to Aramis.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry. So, so sorry for this delay. Almost 8 months without an update. I’m bad. Life got complicated after the last chapter. I had to move and then I didn’t have internet for almost two months and then I didn’t have inspiration and time so I left this chapter in it’s folder on my computer. But now the chapter is here and I hope to update this story as often as possible.
> 
> \-------------------

It's been a long day and Athos wants only to lay down and sleep until morning. They have been back in Paris for a month now, after another six months at war, and the life is returned almost as was before. Athos splits his days between the garrison, commanding his men, and the Court, where he has become an advisor for King Louis. The days he passes at the Palace are the most tiresome, like today. He takes off his doublet and his boots, putting aside his weapons. He walks to the bed, his eyes staring at the pauldron, the arquebus and pistols place in the corner at the end of it. He sighs, closing his eyes, and then he drops on the bed.  
  


A knock on the door startles him and he stands up, upset at whoever is outside. If it's one of those three idiots he'll put them on parade for the next two months.  
  


“I swear if it's another complaining about Porthos' methods of teaching I'll put...” he freezes when he sees who is outside.  
  


Aramis stands there, drenched and miserable. He's looking at his feet and when Athos notices that he's shivering he steps aside, letting his brother enter the room. Aramis takes some steps inside the room, stopping only so Athos can close the door. When he turns, Aramis is grabbing him, sinking his head in his neck.  
  


“Please, take me back,” he begs him. He burrows a little more of his face in Athos' neck, unable to see if the other is angry at his request or not. Instead of answering, Athos dislodges himself from his brother and takes his face in his hands.  
  


“It's really what you want?” he asks, locking his eyes with Aramis'.  
  


“With all my heart,” he whispers.  
  


Athos slides his hands from Aramis' face to his shoulders, pulling him in a hug.  
  


“Welcome back,” he murmurs against his hair.  
  


Aramis hugs him back, a sound between a sob and a huff escapes his lips. He holds Athos like his life depends on him and after a while Athos pulls away, looking at Aramis.  
  


“You're wet. And shivering too.” He moves Aramis to the chair, sitting him down. “Let's take off these drenched clothes, shall we?” He helps his brother removes the shirt and the breeches, putting a big blanket on an almost naked Aramis and he then retrieves some clothes.  
  


“I'm sorry but I have only these. I hope they fit,” he says. Aramis nods and a feeble “Thanks” escapes his lips. It's strange that now, after five years, he's the talkative one, while Aramis had became so quiet. He turns, filling two glasses with wine, and trying to give Aramis some kind of privacy so he can dress. When he hears the chair moving, he faces Aramis and looks at him properly for the first time. His hair is longer, tied back in a small ponytail, and he's pale and thinner. It's like having the old Aramis, but, at the same time meeting a new person completely. These years closed in the monastery really have changed his old friend, and he's not sure yet, but it seems it did it in a good, calmer way.  
  


Aramis seems to know that Athos is staring at him and he bows his head a little bit. Athos slides one glass in front of the other while he sips his wine.  
  


“ Who you are angry at?” Aramis asks as soon as Athos sits next to him.  
  


“What?” Athos replies surprised.  
  


“Yes, when I knocked on the door you threatened to do something to whoever  is complaining about Porthos,” he says smirking.  
  


“Oh, they are only Blanchard, Leclerc and Duval, three recruits that bother me from the day we came back. They're from rich families and don't understand that here they're treat like the others. And they don't like Porthos' method of teaching,” he answers, smirking too.

Aramis nods, still a small smile on his lips. He sips his wine staring at the table. Athos let him be enjoying the comfortable silence between them.  
  


Athos isn't sure if he wants to break that peace or not so he stays quiet, drinking and carefully watching his companion. Aramis sips his wine, analysing the pattern of the table, not sure of what to say to break that almost suffocating silence. His body betrays him when he yawns loudly.  
  


“I think it's time for bed for you,” Athos says, placing his glass on the table. Aramis nods, standing up, inclined to leave Athos go to bed and searching for a room somewhere in the garrison.  
  


“Where are you going?” Athos asks when Aramis bids him goodnight and heads for the door.  
  


“To search for a place where I can sleep,” he answers.  
  


“You're sleeping here tonight. I will ask Constance to sort your old room tomorrow but tonight you take my bed,” Athos says determined.  
  


“Athos, I don't think...” Aramis starts to protest.  
  


“No arguing. I'll place my bedroll on the floor and you take the bed. Accept it or I'll have to put it like a direct order,” he says, smiling when a resigned Aramis nods and sits on the bed.  
  


“I don't want you sleep on the floor. We can share the bed. After all, we slept in worse situations,” he pleads, looking Athos in the eyes. Athos looks back at him and he can't deny him that request. Even if he wanted to.  
  


So he leaves the bed roll in its place and he sits on the bed next to Aramis. He doesn't know what to do. On one side, all he wants to do is make up for the lost time but, on the other side, he doesn't want to rush things and frighten Aramis. So he waits. Another yawn escapes from Aramis and he knows what to do. He starts speaking but Aramis beats him.  
  


“You don't mind if I take the side near the wall?” he asks, rubbing his temple. A bad habit that suggest Aramis is really tired and with a headache coming.  
  


Athos nods and he let his brother slips under the cover and settles on his side. He lays down next to him and blows out the candle. He knows Aramis is facing him when he feels an hand stroking his face. He closes his eyes letting the sensation of that warm hand on him, finally after more than five years, envelop him. He takes that hand in his, squeezing before kissing it.  
  


“Can I kiss you?” he whispers. Aramis doesn't let him finish, attacking his mouth in a desperate kiss. They kiss for a while, touching each other, trying to memorize again the other. They break apart when Athos is without air. Aramis chuckles, putting his head on Athos shoulder.

  
“ It's good to be home,” he whispers before surrenders to sleep.

 


End file.
